Hands That Waver
by ScribeyeSteak
Summary: "Got careless, didn't I lass? Never could tell when those floating nuisances were about to spring on me."


"My apologies, Anithiese. I was preoccupied with fending off the Cantor and didn't even see them." Conrad bowed low, his mask temporarily discarded. His sister ignored him and the decaying Terrors in favor of rushing to the nearly dead Dread Fighter. She couldn't claim to understand what happened, nor did she care to speculate. All she knew was that one of her comrades needed her help.

"He'll be okay; just needs some time to heal. Go help the others finish with the Mogalls." Celica prompted her half-brother as she kneeled down to Saber. Conrad simply nodded at her request and turned his faithful steed, galloping down the stairs and being lost in the dimly lit halls of the tower. Celica paid no mind to her brother's departure, instead focused on tending to the grievous wounds her bodyguard had suffered.

"Got careless, didn't I lass? Never could tell when those floating nuisances were about to spring on me." Saber croaked out. With the two alone, he'd dropped the formalities and reverted to his affectionate nickname for her. She let a thin smile grace her lips at his words; she'd missed that name ever since her coronation.

"Hold your tongue for once, Saber. You need to rest." Celica instructed. The sellsword was too tired to offer a rebuttal or protest, and simply lay back on the enchanted stones as her hands glowed. "You're lucky this isn't too serious; a little more to the left and it would've pierced your neck." The princess lectured as the combined efforts of her spell and the magic circle did their work.

Gingerly, she undid the knots that held his chest-plate intact, letting her access his robes underneath. She pulled back the two halves, exposing his muscled, scarred, and bandaged torso. But for once her eyes weren't on his tapestry of glory and folly, but on the fresh marks of his recent skirmish. The wounds from where the Mogall's tentacles had pierced his shoulder were no longer bleeding, but were lethargic in it's re-stitching, even with the two sources of magic… until she placed her fingers on his shoulders.

Usually just standing beside her was enough for her friends to be healed, but this was a special act reserved for Saber alone. It was one they'd shared quite a few times and usually served to make their quick trysts longer than either anticipated. But such activities were far from their current minds as they focused: on her keeping him alive and him staying alive for her.

"Oh please, if that bastard Grieth couldn't keep me down, what makes you think a lousy Terror would do?" the older man snarked between his winces. Celica couldn't help but shake her head at the mercenary's bull-headed bravado. It's not that Saber was wrong; far from it actually. She'd seen him go toe-to-toe with the feared Pirate King; the same one that had fiercely wounded Valbar and Kamui, and knew that his words were not without weight.

"Still, I guess it's nice to have some alone time…been too long, huh?" he chuckled dryly. Celica drew her hands back as her cheeks darkened, the blush on her face threatening to match her hair and eyes. Watching her embarrassment was enough to make Saber laugh, wincing as the action aggravated his wounds. Even after everything they'd been through, everything THEY had done since their night on the harbor, she was still easily flustered by a little dirty humor. It was endearing, and was one of the things that made her so alluring.

"I…suppose that's true. We've been so busy with trying to find Mila and trudging through Rigel to have any time…together." She squeaked out, the thought of their multiple unions made her more timid than Genny could ever be. She ignored his soft, pained guffaws as she handed him a flask of water to regain his strength.

"Not to mention Mr. Mystery turns out to be your only brother and wants to cling to you every hour; I'd be jealous if I wasn't amused." Saber admitted as he took the offered beverage and downed it. His eye continued to watch her fidget at his teasing; taking joy that he could rile her without a single touch. "Still, guess it's only fair that the future Queen be given the same benefits the rest of the crown."

"Conrad's my brother; I don't lo-I don't like him THAT way." Celica insisted as her aura continued the healing process, replenishing her life force that she had spent trying to speed up Saber's recovery. The older man snorted; his age and cynicism preventing him from keeping his mouth shut at her proclamation.

"Zofia's got a reputation for a reason, princess. Mila's teachings favored pleasure of all kinds above all else, and when you get down to it there's not much separating us flesh-for-flesh. Guess you were lucky enough to bow out before you got inserted into that messed-up world." He mused, saying no more for her sake. While he was sure she knew about her late father's antics, he doubted she realized just how far the Zofian King would go in his earthy pursuits.

Lima's tastes were…limitless. The concepts of morality and boundaries were an alien concept to the late king. Even ignoring the rumors regarding the death of his mother, his palace was wrought with all manner of testaments to a man that knew no rejection: had need for none but want for all. Who knows how long it would've been before his own daughter trailed back into the man's hungry gaze? Saber sent a small, bitter thanks to the deceased chancellor that threw Zofia into chaos and upended Anthiese's life, if only because it spared her from what could possibly have been a far worse fate.

Noticing that she had placed a hand on his shoulder, Saber glanced down at her and nearly groaned in frustration. It would seem that even with his attempt to be poetic, Celica was still reeling from the horrible truths her confidant had revealed. It brought back memories; horrible flashes of her brief life in the palace before she was whisked away to the Villa. The things she'd seen her fath- that THING, do despite the protests and cries of his victims.

Saber didn't want to see her pain; to see the look of horror consume her scarlet pools as she stared down at the floor. He didn't mind watching her chest heave; Mila only knows how many times he'd been the cause of her loss of breath. But this wasn't the way he wanted to see her. Hell, it wasn't the way he knew she needed to be in the middle of this godforsaken Tower. He needed a way to get her mind back: to get her focused on the now. And what better way than to prod her out of her funk?

He set up his plan by glancing down at her hand and taking her dainty fingers in his, the sensation being enough to cause her gaze to shift up to his eye. "Here? Hardly the best place, lass; hoping to blaspheme another holy ground?" The grizzled man inquired, knowing the reaction would be worth his blunt words and enough to bring her back. Indeed, her face now properly matched her hair and eyes; a canvas of red atop a stunning monument of white and gold. "Still, I think I saw a little alcove a few floors down if you're interested…" Saber pressed, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before she'd react.

 ***SMACK** *****

"Do you really think this is the time or place for THAT?!" she screamed, not caring if her voice carried down the vast halls to where their comrades were fighting the accursed Terrors. He looked up at he; pleased to see she was back on her feet after his crass taunt. Guess he had his fun and was up to the groveling point now…

"Sorry lass, It's just nice to see you fired up and flustered. You've been carrying the world ever since you put that crown on again; the last thing we need is you getting caught up in some errant thoughts." Saber explained as he rubbed his cheek. Guess he should be thankful she'd only done the one side… Ah what the hell; he hated being asymmetrical. "Besides, I wasn't hearing protests back at the Temple. Then again it was difficult to hear anything over the sluice gate, much less yo-"

 ***SMACK** *****

There was the follow-up.

"Do you fancy yourself a jester, Saber?" Celica queried as her tone dripped with ice and loathing. She did her best to hide the wince that threatened to dawn on her face, or the throbbing sensation of her sore hand. By the Mother, she'd forgotten how taught and sculpted his skin was. She'd lost track of how many times her nails had cracked trying to break the skin of his back. Saber took her words in stride and simply chuckled as he rubbed his cheek.

"Nah, I'm not the type to dress up, much less dress my words to a bunch of brainless nobles." He admitted as the stinging sensations faded away. "Someone's got to keep you down to earth, is all. Keep you honest." Saber explained as he looked at her, his eye conveying the weight of his statement. Celica tried to match his smoulder, but found her own eyes cast away as she weighed his words: his accusation.

He'd seen her with her head held high, and with her brow low. He'd seen her at her strongest as she led the charge against a never-ending horde of Necrodragons, and at her weakest as she questioned her faith and the worth of her mission In Mila's empty chamber. It didn't matter the times he'd seen her cloaked in splendid regalia or bare of all for his eye alone. Sure he'd make his quips and snarkily declare every step of the journey 'above his contract'… but he'd never threatened to walk away. Not from his mission: not from her.

They'd braved the seas, survived earthquakes, suffered through the desert, and delved into many tombs and graveyards of horror and Terror. Who knows how many scars he'd gotten in the process while her skin remained pristine and flawless. He'd watched as she pleaded for peace against the likes of Grieth or Barth, and her sobs over the suffering of the good people they'd come across. He'd seen the enraptured crowds that held onto her every word, and he'd heard her screams as she writhed underneath him. Since the priestess approached him in that hazy tavern on Novis and handed him the Golden Dagger he now wielded, he'd been with her every step of the way…except for now.

Even with him still swearing by her, showing fealty to her ascension before even Boey or Mae could, he knew she was withholding something. Despite her insistence that it was her concern for Mila, Saber knew that there was more to this story than she was willing to divulge. Ordinarily he'd consider it bad business and drop the contract, but what he'd had with them - with her - was more than any simple job in the past. And somehow, that made the deception hurt worse than ever before.

"You're still not going to tell me what's up, are you." It wasn't a question, but a statement. He already knew the answer without her even giving an excuse. She said nothing; no pleads for forgiveness or promises of revelation. They gazed into each other; his hardened eye against her wavering pair. He reached out and grasped her hand – she didn't even flinch.

"Celica…" he whispered, almost pleading. It was the first time he'd called the princess by her assumed name outside of their trysts. It might as well have been a slur in her ears.

Their moment was shattered as the sounds of conflict rang through the halls. Whatever fight was still going on had clearly worked its way closer to them. The sellsword relinquished his grip, sighing and turning down to his discarded effects.

"They're going to need you lass. We both know these damn Mogalls like to spread faster than rabbits. Just give me a few minutes and I'll join you guys." Saber promised, adjusting his top and reaching for his discarded breastplate. A he reached over to the Golden Dagger that served as her payment, he paused before making a choice.

"Hold onto this for a bit, okay?" he asked, holding the dagger in front of him. Celica glanced down in surprise as he offered her the weapon she'd had since a child. It never meant anything to her; just another piece of baggage from her life as one of the Kings many spawn and a suitable payment to hire his services. To take it back like this…

...It was brief; far shorter from the one's they usually shared once they'd slipped away from her entourage, yet longer than the stolen pecks that would be exchanged when no one was looking. But what was most noticeable was the lack of warmth. She made no effort to invade his mouth, and when he tried to goad her by leaning back, he found that her lips didn't follow. He stared at her; those damned red eyes oddly flat and lacking the warmth and shine that would always draw him to her. He could usually read her like an open tome, but not now.

Saber watched as she stood up and picked up the offered Golden Dagger, not even turning to face him as she said one last thing.

"…Good-bye, Saber."

He'd seen her leave many times; sometimes in a huff, others with a spring. Whether exhausted or invigorated, in varying states of undress, he'd watch her depart. But this time…

"Well that wasn't ominous…" he mused as he looked at the Blessed Sword she'd left in her stead.


End file.
